13/06/2020 Author's Note: This is my first ever Uncharted fanfic, even though I have been a fan of the series for years and this idea has actually mean in my head since 2016. I guess the reason I've finally decided to write it up is because of being in isolation due to Covid-19 and spending way too many hours watching Nolan North kill Nate by falling off cliffs or getting shot by enemies as he works his way through playing the Uncharted Series, while Troy Baker alternating between laughing hysterically and being in an absolute panic.
As stated in the summary this fanfiction will mostly be made up on one-shots rather than a complete retelling of Uncharted 4 with Cassie included as a toddler - that was admittedly the original plan, but I have ultimately decided against it. I think one-shots of certain events will work just fine here.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or events that occur in the Uncharted Game series. They are property of Naughty Dog and Sony.
There's a legacy in her name
Sam stood, half obscured by a tree growing out on the footpath just outside of the house that he had been watching for the past five or so minutes.
This… this couldn't be the place (even though he knows it is. He's check the address enough times to have it memorised).
It just couldn't be (it is).
Not in this quiet suburb, filled to the brim with families working ordinary every day jobs to make ends meet, raising kids, going shopping, eating three square meals a day.
Every day was the same here. Every day there was no change, no excitement, no adventure or thrill of the chase.
He had been in prison, many times in fact, and being in this quiet little place of houses and picket white fences felt like he had just walked into another one, of a different kind. One where you were locked into place, not by steel bars, high walls and guards, but by bills and mortgages, boring dead-end jobs, and-
And wives and… kids.
Sam swallowed thickly.
Maybe that was what had been the most surprising thing of all.
Not that Nathan had moved into a quiet suburb in New Orleans; living in an actual house with a white picket fence (the fence wasn't actually white. In fact, it was one of the only fence in the street that appeared to be still it original woody brown), working an ordinary 9 to 5 job – well, not exactly ordinary and it wasn't 9 to 5 either, working as a diver at a salvage company, but it was still a job, a legal one that paid bills and mortgages, put food on the table and all that normal everyday life stuff – but the fact that he, that Nathan had… had a family.
A wife and… and a kid.
When Rafe had told him that Nathan was out of the treasure hunting life for good, Sam had thought the worst and to show just how much of asshole Rafe truly was, he let Sam sit there, thinking his baby brother was dead for a good couple of minutes before continue in his smug, 'I'm-more-superior-than-thee' voice that he meant Nathan had retired, gotten married and now earning an honest living.
He had laughed then, slapping Sam on the shoulder as he added with a sly grin that Nathan might as well be dead, huh.
Sam had been torn between being relieved that his brother was alive and-and… was it jealousy? Or betrayal, over his brother leaving their legacy, their birth right behind and for what? Something that would probably only end in heartbreak?
He had done his research of what Nathan had gotten up in the years that Sam had spent rotting away in prison until Rafe had brought him out and proceeded to trap Sam in a different kind of prison, one with good food, soft bed and all the resources he could ever want for picking up where they had left off in their quest for Avery's treasure. But he couldn't leave Rafe's mansion unless he had half a dozen of Rafe's men with him, and Rafe himself. Nor could he contact Nathan. He might as well have stayed in the prison in Panama.
So he had fallen onto what he and his brother had done best, he had researched and what he discovered made his heart glow with pride and ache with bitterness.
His brother had made quite a name for himself in the treasure hunting circles, a name that Sam wasn't a part of.
Victor Sullivan was. Because of course he was. And discovering that Nathan had more or less taken up with Victor as a permanent partner in crime, instead of going it alone after Sam's "death", had sent Sam into another spiral of jealousy and bitterness over the man, who without even trying, had always slotted so easily into Nathan's life, who had always taken better care of Nathan, despite Sam giving it his absolute everything to keep Nathan fed and clothed, sheltered and safe from the cruel world they lived in.
A reporter by the name of Elena Fisher popped up frequently in Nathan's later adventures. She was also the woman Nathan had apparently thrown their legacy away to marry, not once but twice!
There were other names he recognised attached to Nathan's name – Charlie Cutter, still alive and active in the treasure hunting business. And Harry Flynn, who was very much dead after blowing himself sky high by his own grenade while trying to kill Nathan. His grenade had apparently injured Nathan's wife, but not critically. Whatever mixed feeling Sam had towards his brother's wife, he's glad she hadn't been killed because of Flynn's actions – and others he didn't, such as Chloe Frazer.
He had researched as much as he could about his brother until the trail ran cold, almost around the same time the Sam had been busted out of prison by Rafe.
It was as if, not long after Nathan's second marriage to the reporter, Nathan Drake simply ceased to exist. He completely disappeared from the treasure hunting world.
At first, Sam really hadn't wanted to believe Rafe when he said that Nathan had gone straight, living a quiet life, working a normal job, but after so many months of going back and forth between his research for Henry Avery's treasure and his hunt for Nathan, he found he had no choice but to accept Rafe's word, and his search for his brother expanded beyond Sam's familiar territory of treasure, back room deals and the criminal underground and out into the wider world.
His search for Nathan, once he had expanded it outside of the treasure hunting world, was actually quite short. But it did stop Sam cold.
And again, it wasn't the fact that he found out that Nathan own a house, or worked a 9 to 5 job, that had Sam freeze. Those things… they were material, they could be left. Even the fact that Nathan was married, hadn't been what had stopped Sam, because wives could be left too, he and Nathan both knew that, had seen it for themselves. Heck, seemed like Nathan had already left her once before.
No, what had Sam freezing was the birth announcement.
Welcome to the world, Cassandra Samantha Drake.
He didn't know just how many times he read over the little girl's birth announcement, but it was enough that whenever he closed his eyes, he could see it still, word for word;
Welcome to the world, Cassandra Samantha Drake. Born on the 28th of January 2014 (He wondered if Nathan saw the irony of his daughter being born on the day history claimed Sir Francis Drake had died), weighing 6 pounds 9 ounces. With all our love Nathan Drake and Elena Fisher.
Her name…
Cassandra Samantha Drake.
If Sam had felt any doubts that the Nathan Drake he found living in New Orleans, married to one Elena Fisher, working salvage wasn't his Nathan, the name of his daughter kill those doubts dead.
Those names, all put together like that, it was too much of a coincidence.
And it stopped him, brought all his carefully laid out plans to a screeching halt. Job? You can leave. House? You can leave that too, or rent it out. A wife? Will either wait for you or leave you.
But a kid… a little kid, a baby…
For months after he made this discovery, Sam found himself with little to no motivation to continue on with his research on the location of Avery's treasure.
For months, he simply sat in the impressive library within the Adler Estate (Nathan would have a field day in here), acting like he was working, but really he was just… not doing much of anything really.
So, if Rafe was surprised to wake up one morning in mid-August, two years after getting Sam out of prison, to find Sam up and gone, it was nothing compared to how Sam felt as he snuck over walls and past guards posted around the Adler Estate to keep people out (and Sam in. He was more than a little embarrassed by just how effective those guys had been to convince him that they could stop him from leaving. And in the end, he gotten past them without raising a single alarm nor did he have to knock anyone out. If Nadine's guys had been there, probably would be an entirely different story, but Sam was all for counting his blessing and moving right along.) and stealing a motorcycle, his pockets and backpack lined with valuables he had lifted from Rafe's, enough hopefully to get him the money needed for a passport and a flight to New Orleans.
Did he have a plan? Not really, nothing more than a folded piece of paper in his pocket regarding a certain cross up for auction in Italy in a just over two weeks time.
All he knew for certain was that he was on a time crunch, and not just to get the Saint Dismas's Cross before Rafe.
Could he have stuck around until after Rafe got the cross, stolen it and then left?
Probably, but that thought didn't enter his brain until he was already on his way to New Orleans and well, there was no turning back now.
No, his time crunch was the kid.
She'd be around two now (two years, eight months), right in the throes of the terrible twos, but still young enough not to remember if her father up and disappeared from her life for a couple of weeks, maybe a few months at most.
No more than three months though, he growled quietly to himself for what had to be the millionth time.
He would have Nathan back in time for Christmas – Christmas had never been important to Nathan and Sam growing up, but Sam could imagine Nathan going all out for the sake of his kid – and well before her third birthday.
They will have found Avery's treasure by then, beaten Rafe to it, and Nathan could return to his quiet life, to his little family, two hundred million richer, able to provide them with the life that Nathan and Sam had been denied.
It was thoughts like these that eased the growing guilt and uncertainty in Sam's chest as he drew nearer and nearer to the place his brother had settled down.
But they came back – because of course they did – the moment he saw the tiny blonde ball of energy scampering around the front garden of the too ordinary, too normal house that his brother supposedly lived at. She was giggling incessantly, though she was doing her very best to smoother the noise with a hand clamped over her mouth as she ran around the garden, searching for something… or someone.
When Sam first approached the house, trying to appear casual, like he fitted in walking down the street of this quiet, sleepy neighbourhood and not like someone who knew how to bypass every security measure installed in any one of these houses, he swore he saw an adult running – though not really, more an enthusiastic jog – out of the house that was meant to be Nathan's before disappearing somewhere in the depths of the front garden.
That had left Sam a little weary, but he continue on with his approach all the same, before standing beneath the tree – and trying to appear as un-creepy as possible – as he watched for any more signs of life.
But for five minutes the garden and house appeared still and silent – the house less so, there was a TV chattering in there, along with the sounds of a washing machine going, and of course, the giggling of a child. – but then, that ball of blonde energy came racing out the front door, bouncing and giggling, but trying oh so hard to be quiet, as she barrelled around the garden, searching, searching…
His heart stopped in panic as little ball of energy disappeared behind a bush at the far side of the garden and her giggles transformed into a squeal.
He was only just as able to catch himself from leaping over the fence when he realised it was a squeal of delight, rather than of pain or fright.
His heart stopped again when the blonde child appeared once more, held up high and giggling harder than ever by a tall – though not as tall as Sam – man with a mess of brown hair, dressed in loose a fitting t-shirt that only just barely hid a set of broad shoulders – had they always been that broad? – and solid muscle that lay beneath the fabric, and faded jeans.
He was laughing almost as hard as his little daughter as he swung her around the garden, at several points coming too near for comfort to Sam's hiding spot, his expression one of true and unconditional love.
Nathan.
It was Nathan.
Without a doubt, there was his baby brother. He might be broader in the shoulders and greying at the temples, but it was still him.
He had found him! Sam had found his brother at last.
And though he is overwhelmed with emotions; the desire to call out or simply take a few steps and stand by the gate until Nathan noticed him, were strong, he remained where he was, in the shadows watching father swing daughter through the air.
"Mommy!" the little girl suddenly let out another squeal as she looked towards the front door of the house, which also drew Sam's attention to a pretty blonde woman who seemed to fighting to keep herself from laughing as she tried to portray a stern look as she stared at father and daughter.
"You two were supposed to be getting ready for dinner." The blonde woman scolding fell flat as she laughed at the pouts being sent her way by husband and daughter.
"You said there was time for one more game," His brother's voice sounded sheepish as he settled his giggling child onto his hip and gave his wife the puppy dog eyes that Sam knew so well, even after all these years of not seeing that precious expression, he could still see it, clear as day, whenever he closed his eyes.
"Inside the house." His brother's wife laughed, "Not in the garden. Cassie will need another bath after dinner, look at her." Sam couldn't see from where he stood but he could imagine. Nathan at that age, at any age really, had been a dirt magnet.
"No! No bath!" Little Cassie cried, squirming in protest in his brother's arms.
"Blame your father, little miss." Nathan's wife snorted, as she stepped forward to run a fond finger along her daughter's round toddler cheek. To Nathan she added, "You're on bath duty." As she plucked a stray leaf from Nathan's unruly hair.
Nathan heaved a huge sigh but said nothing else in protest, simply sending his wife that grin of his that he always believed would get him out of all kinds of trouble. His wife however seemed to be more or less immune to the grin, as she laughed again as she herded wayward husband and child back into the house, taking them both from Sam's view as she closed the front door behind them.
For an irrational moment, Sam hated her. Hated her for taking the two most precious – yes, the kid was already precious to him, even if he hadn't properly met her yet, she was still precious to him. She had been since the moment he had discovered her existence – people in his life out of his sight.
But then quickly the hate changed from her and onto himself.
There was nothing stopping him from following them, from knocking on the door, introducing himself to –to Nathan's wife, Elena and…
He could imagine it so clearly, Nathan with his little daughter appearing at the end of the corridor after hearing his wife answer the front door, hearing her shock gasp over being told who Sam is, seeing Sam and running at him, being of course mindful of the kid – maybe he would hand her off briefly to his wife before he tackled Sam. He wondered in Nathan would cry. Heck, Sam felt near crying just thinking about reuniting with his brother.
They would ask him to stay for dinner, after introductions were done, and Nathan would demand to know his story, how he survived, how long had been out of prison?
Telling Nathan how he survived being shot and the fall, that was easy. Telling him how long he had been out of prison, and why he was out of prison was, even for his imagine reunion, a lot harder.
It always had been. First because it would be admitting just how long he had stayed away, not telling Nathan he was alive and free, letting Nathan continue to think that he is dead.
And now, on top of that, he's seen Nathan with his kid, with his wife, and the words just got stuck in his throat. Because there is no way Nathan was going to give this life up, walk away from it, even for just a couple of months, just because Sam asked him to so that they could pick back up the search for Avery's treasure together. Heck, Nathan might even tell him to go back to Rafe!
And no, no… he could not, would not go back to Rafe! Nor would he continue on with this without Nathan.
Going in there now, reuniting with Nathan tonight in his cozy little home with his family around him would not be what convinced Nathan to come with Sam to achieve their life goals, to fulfil their mother's legacy.
No, Sam would wait and watch some more and then when the moment was right, he would convince Nathan that finding Avery's treasure was a necessity, for the both of them. Life or death.
He would have Nathan back before Christmas. The kid was only two (two years, eight months), she wouldn't remember, in years to come, Nathan being gone for a handful of months. And Nathan had a phone, so he could call them whenever it was safe to.
It would only be a handful of months on the top side. The kid was only two (and eight months), she wouldn't remember her Uncle Sam taking her Dad away for one last adventure. She would remember her Uncle Sam bring her Dad back though.
And Sam swore, as he stared at his brother, once more chasing Sam's squealing niece around the living room, he swore to that beautiful ball of energy, he would bring her father back to her. He swore it upon his mother's legacy, her name sake. Cassandra.